


Démarche

by natsubaki



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Frottage, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Obedience, Stepping, Stiletto Heels, Stockings, TKG Valentine Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsubaki/pseuds/natsubaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You like that, don't you?” Kaneki purrs into his ear, the faintest amount of disgust lacing the words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Démarche

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ryo Flame as part of the TKG Valentine Exchange on tumblr bonus round: a small gift for the head honcho of this exchange and one of the first friends I made in this fandom. Also, an early happy birthday!

The knee against his groin is a sweet release.  
  
“You like that, don't you?” Kaneki purrs into his ear, the faintest amount of disgust lacing the words. It only makes the desire burn more fiercely throughout Tsukiyama’s body, the shame evident in his cheeks and the humiliation obvious from the bulge in his pants.  
  
He doesn’t answer, but Kaneki’s eyebrows narrow as he lifts off from his position between Tsukiyama’s legs. The loud clacking against the floor as Kaneki strides purposefully around Tsukiyama beats harshly against Tsukiyama’s ears.  
  
It reminds him of joints snapping, one by one.  
  
It makes his cock twitch.  
  
“You can be honest with me, Tsukiyama-san,” Kaneki breathes into his other ear from behind the chair. “I know when you’re lying, anyway.” The words _sound_ sweet, but Tsukiyama knows there’s a wrong answer waiting to trap him.  
  
He closes his eyes and tips his head down, inhaling deeply through his nose to try to clear his head. His wrists are starting to smart from their bindings, little pinpricks of pain shooting up to his elbows. Kaneki had told him that he was not allowed to touch, and this only ensured that outcome.  
  
“You are my _raison d’être_ , _cher_ ,” Tsukiyama replies shakily, “Whatever you deign to give me is a gift I will happily receive.”  
  
He can feel the stillness of the room as Kaneki stares at him. Tsukiyama doesn’t even need to look to know the carefully neutral expression that is surely gracing Kaneki’s face.  
  
Click. Click. Click.  
  
Tsukiyama’s eyes fly open when the inside of his ankle is kicked out, spreading his legs farther apart, and he feels the sharp point of a heel digging into his crotch. Kaneki balances expertly in the stilettos, the stretch from one foot being hiked up showcasing the lean muscles of his calves and thighs.  
  
The thigh-highs clipped into garters are simply a bonus.  


Tsukiyama doesn’t have the luxury of admiring this particularly delicious view. Kaneki is still wearing remnants from an undercover disguise donned earlier that night. Although it would have made logical sense for an actual female to do the job, Kaneki had been adamant in refusing to put Jiro by herself in danger, and Hinami was out of the question. Being the slightest in build, Kaneki had been the natural choice.

The mission into the gentlemen’s club hadn’t earned them much information in the way of Kanou’s location (a matter over which Tsukiyama would have to exchange words with Chie), but Tsukiyama had been all too eager to reap the benefits from the convincing costume.

He’d been surprised when Kaneki actually went along with it.

Kaneki slides the shoe down so that the toe is doing the pressing, rolling around in small circular motions. He stares down at Tsukiyama with half-lidded, mismatched eyes. “That’s very...humble...of you,” Kaneki hesitates as he settles on the word. The foot twists, pushes down harder. “I'm not sure I believe it, though.”  
  
“Pl-please, Kaneki-kun,” Tsukiyama whimpers, hating himself for it yet feeling a strange sense of liberation.  
  
“‘Please’ what?” Kaneki says. The pressure minutely decreases.  
  
He doesn’t even know the answer to that question. More, less, touch, taste, hold—anything would be better than this agony.  
  
Kaneki laughs, the sound like a bell tinkling. He drags his foot along the curve of Tsukiyama’s cock slowly before removing it to straddle Tsukiyama’s legs. His arms wrap loosely around Tsukiyama’s shoulders, and Kaneki leans in to rest his forehead against Tsukiyama’s own.  
  
“Look at you,” Kaneki says with a smirk, “I think I like this side of you, Tsukiyama-san. It’s—ah, what did you call it—a new flavor?” With that, Kaneki tilts his head, swiping his tongue across Tsukiyama’s bottom lip before pressing in for a kiss. Tsukiyama opens his mouth willingly, shivering under the contact and from the sweetness of Kaneki’s own flavor.

Kaneki sighs into Tsukiyama’s mouth as he breaks the kiss, unwinding his arms and placing his fingers atop the waistband of Tsukiyama’s slacks. “I’ll give you something good, then, but you’re to stay completely still. Got that?”

Tsukiyama fervently nods his head, planting his feet firmly against the floor. Kaneki smirks again, undoes the button and pulls down the fly, reaching in to free Tsukiyama’s aching erection.

He pumps it twice, openly grinning when Tsukiyama sucks in a short breath, and Tsukiyama feels the heat flare in his cheeks once more. Shifting on his lap, Kaneki scoots closer until they are pressed against one another, and with his hands braced on Tsukiyama’s shoulders, he begins to move.

Closing his eyes, Tsukiyama clenches his jaw and tries to breathe. He wants to kiss Kaneki so badly—feel the softness of Kaneki’s lips, knead them between his teeth—but he knows one step out of line could end everything abruptly. The lace accents of Kaneki’s panties are rough against his cock, but the contrast of Kaneki’s own hardness and the silky fabric grinding against him only heighten his sensitivity.

Kaneki is relentless, rolling his hips in staccato, the weight of his movements causing the wooden chair they sit on to creak at its joints. Kaneki’s breaths are short, sweet little pants that Tsukiyama wishes were the endless soundtrack to his life. He dips his head down, and a lance of pain shoots through Tsukiyama’s shoulder as Kaneki bites down on his collarbone, never abandoning his pace. It’s not enough to draw blood, and his shirt buffered most of the damage, but it shakes Tsukiyama enough that he opens his eyes and is shocked to see Kaneki staring directly back at him.

His ghoul eye is a bright red, his human eye hazy and dilated. Kaneki’s skin feels warm even through the barrier of Tsukiyama’s clothing, tiny beads of sweat collecting along creases and rolling down his arms and abdomen. Kaneki holds Tsukiyama’s gaze as he rises and falls—Tsukiyama is certain he couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to—and hands appear at either side of Tsukiyama’s face, thumbs stroking gently at his cheekbones.

And then there it is: the softness Tsukiyama had been seeking, pressed up against his lips. The kiss begins delicately, almost tenderly, before it feels like Kaneki is trying to devour him. But Tsukiyama is lost in Kaneki’s taste and the damp heat of his breaths against his face, in the symphony of Kaneki’s gasps filling his ears.

Kaneki makes a choking sound as he comes, his fingers clawing into Tsukiyama’s shoulders. The scent of him is too much, and Tsukiyama bites his own lip as he releases, a flood of copper adding to the sensory overload.

They are both panting raggedly as they recover. Tsukiyama’s heart feels like it wants to beat out of his chest, and he moves forward before he is reminded of the cord that tethers him to the chair. Kaneki laughs, and it feels real.

“Wow, that was kind of weird,” Kaneki says as he runs a hand through his hair. He reaches over to pull the knot out and unravel the cord from around Tsukiyama’s wrists.

“ _Non_ , you were _una delizia_.” Tsukiyama smiles as he flexes his wrists. His arms feel heavy from the blood rushing back, and he hesitantly rests his hands on Kaneki’s hips.

Kaneki’s eyes flicker downward, but he says nothing. He looks like he’s deliberating something in his head, but Tsukiyama can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

“I'm gonna get changed,” Kaneki announces as he slides off Tsukiyama’s lap, looking down at his abdomen with a grimace, “And cleaned. I have a whole new appreciation for what girls do on the daily after this.” His former perfect balance is gone, and Kaneki wobbles a bit dangerously as he kicks off the heels and stretches his toes.

Tsukiyama watches as Kaneki makes his way to the bathroom and takes inventory of his own mess. All things considered, his clothes aren’t a complete wreck: there are only a few small wet spots on his underwear, so he imagines that Kaneki must have taken the brunt of the mess.

What an unexpected, delightful treat. Tsukiyama’s mouth curls into a wide grin—he still can’t really believe what just happened, even with the evidence staring straight in his face. His Kaneki-kun could be so deliciously unpredictable...he wanted to savor this meal for as long as he possibly could.

Although Tsukiyama knows the incident is likely a one-off, he wouldn’t mind enjoying this style of entrée again.


End file.
